Putsch
by Vinvy
Summary: Everybody knows that Dib Membrane is crazy. The kid's a schizophrenic mess and a family disgrace! So what happens when he's enlisted to help overthrow a government?    Rated M for language, violence and ZaDR later on.  Co-Author justmacy!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Waiting rooms are much more tolerable as a small child. When you're six you can tear up magazines, wander around whining about being bored and sit swinging your legs while "accidentally" kicking people who get too close. Most folks think that's cute, even if a little annoying. Sometimes someone will even give you candy to shut you up. They might find you a rubber band and a paper clip with which you can amuse yourself. People like little kids in waiting rooms.

I dare you to pull the same stunts at seventeen. Wanna know what'll happen? You'll get kicked out. There's also a high probability of getting shoved around in an alley for a while, too, if there's anyone of your age group in the vicinity of the waiting room you just got kicked out of. Trust me, I know these things.

Those unpleasant side effects are why I sat still. Well, I kept most of my body still, which is close enough. I couldn't stop my right knee from jerking up and down. It was a nervous tic. _What the hell am I nervous about?_

The chain from my shorts clanked against the buckles on my boots. People were starting to glower in my general direction. _Great. I should have left the bottoms of these pants zipped on. _I leered back, baring my teeth once in a while for dramatic effect. What did they expect to see in here anyway? Kids whose lives were all puppies and kitties and rainbow cupcakes? News flash, Numbskulls, the real world ain't like that.

The off-yellow color of the walls was starting to make me nauseas. It looked like vomit. The chair I sat on was padded with cardboard. No lie. Under the thin, fraying upholstery I could feel it. It must be a new method of torture designed to get people to talk more freely.

"Uh… Dib _Membrane_?"

I held a brief battle with the urge to roll my eyes and lost. Invariably they turned upward at the secretary's confused tone. It happened every time I saw a new doctor. She wasn't expecting to see _that_ name pop up on her list. Nope, not at all.

_Why_?

Well, you must not be from around here. Possibly not even from this planet. My father is the great, world-famous Professor Membrane. He's the best scientist and inventor Amerika ever produced. That wouldn't be saying much if he weren't single handedly responsibly for curing the common cold and a lovely arsenal of devices for killing Santa Claus. (The man has issues with the fat guy in the red suit. Personally I think he was molested by him but Dad insists that it's because he didn't receive U-238 for Christmas as a child. Whatever. I still say Sandy Claws felt him up.) We'd almost lost everything in the legal battles with the cold medicine companies that resulted from the whole cold cure incident. Currently the cure is only available at ungodly prices. My sister and I can't even have it without paying. How messed up is that?

The receptionist continued to stare up at me, her face now holding fear.

_Christ, don't they teach these people manners?_ I made a shooing motion with my hands. "Lead the way. I don't bite unless I have to."

The blonde lady swallowed hard and turned stiffly, leading me into the maze of offices behind the check-in desk door. The whole "fear" thing was one I just didn't get. Sure, I'd managed to grow to about six feet tall, but considering the fact that the body hanging on that skeleton was borderline anorexic I didn't think I cut a very intimidating image. Just a lanky one.

_It must be the black_. People tend to be wary of it unless you're a ninja or Halloween is coming up. …Or both. Freaks. Once I was safely in the office the receptionist left me to my own devices. I'm pretty sure I heard her lock me in. Bitch. I hope you get gang banged by mothman and the Chupacabra.

Glaring at the closed door didn't make me feel any better so I sat on the couch. This was stuffed with flat cotton balls instead of cardboard. A slight improvement was better than none at all. The wallpaper used to be a floral print of poppies or something similar. Now it just looked like blood spatter. The only clock in the room was distended and flowy like it was melting. Was that supposed to be ironic?

The door clicked open and a man of about fifty walked in. He was wearing tweed and he locked the door behind him. That wasn't creepy at all. "Hello, Dib, I'm Dr. Morrison. How are you today?" He sat on the chair across from me. He didn't seem too odd, though I wasn't much of a judge for normalcy.

"Your waiting room chairs suck ass and your couch isn't much better."

"I'm sorry you don't like them. I'll have the receptionist see what can be done about that. You're not the first to comment on their poor quality."

_Bull shit. You won't do a damn thing to that receptionist except maybe grab her ass. Though I can't blame you for that one._

"Would you like to talk about why you're here?"

"What planet are you from? They took my journals. You should have read them by now. You know why I'm here." I could hear my sister sneering in my head. _Little Dib keeps a secret diary! Ha. I wonder what he's whining about now_.

Dr. Morrison made an amused sound. "Yes, that is true. I was just hoping to hear it from you. You seem to have a very… fluid writing style. Your prose is rounded in a…" He tried to choose his next word carefully and failed, "_feminine_ way. Why is that?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and fought the urge to pout. That's all that this guy had to say? That I write like a girl? Big deal! At least I write in a comprehensible manner and I can form a proper thesis statement! Try asking any of the other guys in my school to do that- most of them will think its some type of innuendo. This was sorely disappointing. I'd had expectations about my first appointment with a psychologist and none of them were being met.

I countered him with easy condescension. "What are you going to say next? That I have an Oedipus complex?"

I'd done enough self-psychoanalysis to know that I did. (For those of you swine who don't know what an Oedipus Complex is, here's the definition from the Almighty Wikipedia, give or take a few words: _"unconscious ideas and feelings which concentrate on the desire to possess the parent of the opposite sex and eliminate the parent of the same sex_." In the terms of the classical tragedy, feelings of wanting to kill one's father and marry the mother.) I didn't take things quite as far as the fictional Oedipus- I had no mother around to marry- but I most certainly wanted Dad dead. The strange balance of hero-worship and hatred I'd kept in regards to him was tipping in recent months and not towards the positive end of the scale.

"Oh, yes, that's quite clear. What is it about your father that causes you so much ire?"

_At least he's got a good vocabulary_. "He thinks I'm insane. He encourages others to think I'm insane. He's never around. He's famous and I'm both envious and jealous. I want his fame and I can't stand that his fame has deprived me of a father figure. He makes me feel inadequate." I delivered this speech in a monotone.

It wasn't like this would be news to someone who had read every single one of my journals. There were about two dozen of the ratty, marbled composition books in all. Every inch of every line on every page in each book was covered in my tiny handwriting in whatever color of ink had been available that day. I didn't waste space. I'd been keeping them since greyd skool.

"Ask me something else. I don't like talking about Dad."

He didn't miss a beat. "Why are you wearing a straight jacket?"

It wasn't really a straight jacket- it was just a coat designed to look like one that I'd dyed black. However, I could see the implications that the therapist had been mulling over since he'd set eyes on me. I took a moment to formulate what I was going to say, hoping I could continue to keep this pseudo-mind-reading act up to pass the hour as quickly as possible. (Not that it entirely mattered- I'd be back tomorrow and the day after and the next day, etc. until Dr. Morrison decided I was fit to see him less frequently.)

"It's an outward expression of the restraint I feel I must maintain at all times in our unfeeling, apathetic society." I threw in an allusion to my unsmiling smiley-face-shirt jsust for good measure.

His eyebrows quirked up a little. It was a sign that I'd managed to get really close to his assumptions. He smirked. "We both know that's not really how you feel about that jacket."

"You're right. Its just a jacket. I bought it because the buckles and straps were entertaining. Any other connotations are what your'e reading into my choice of clothing, not actualy reasons for it."

We had a good stare-down then. I was pissed off about being there and he found me an irritating and fascinating subject. No surprise about that one. Most shrinks think that for a while then they give up.

Oh? Did you think this was my very first psychotherapy appointment? Then I must have misspoken. No, it was just my first one with Dr. Morrison. My last therapist had given up about a month earlier.

"So, Dib, let's get down to the meat of the matter, no more playing games. You're about as good at them as any psychologist I've ever met." I smirked at his compliment. "Why did you try to kill yourself?"

That was a touchy subject. I'd rather talk about my Dad-was-raped-by-Santa theory. My heart rate picked up a bit and the bullet wound that- fuck my life, wouldn't you know it?- was an inch too low below it ached.

"I got bored."

"Liar."

"Of course I am."


	2. 1: Angry

**A/N: Guess what I forgot to do last chapter? **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Invader Zim'. It belongs to the almights Jhonen Vasquez. So does 'Johnny the Homicidal Maniac'. (There are references to it in there, you just can't see them).**

**However, the plot is property of justmacy and myself. You can't have it! But we'll let you look at it. ...From a distance.**

**[**_Oh, yes, and the whole lovely fic is getting reposted because Nae (FINALLY!) came up with a page-break thingy that wouldn't make vanish. 3_**]**

**Okay, I'm done now. Here's the story!**

* * *

"Have fun with the new doctor, Dib?" Gaz didn't bother looking up from her Game Slave III. I watched her punch away at its controls, her thumbs ten times as lively as her demeanor could ever be.

"No. The bastard is as smart as I am."

"That's not hard."

"Shut up, Gaz."

"If you tell me what to do again I'll kill you, Dib."

"I'll surgically remove your spleen then feed it to you raw, sis." I loved these little exchanges we had. It was our form of bonding.

"So, will you be going back?" It was like she was choking on her own words.

I wished Gaz would stop talking to me. I didn't like her concern. It was itchier than a wool sweater in a heat wave and nowhere near as comfortable. "I have to."

"Dad's working late tonight."

"When isn't he?" The question was more to myself than anything. I started for the stairs, dragging my feet.

"Dib!"

When I turned around she was staring straight at me, her hands completely still in her lap. "Are you okay?"

"That's a stupid question."

"Your voice is making my ears bleed. Leave so I can concentrate." Her attention snapped back to the Game Slave III.

That was better. As I climbed the stairs she hurled one last death threat. "If I hear one more sound out of you, little brother, I will personally disembowel you!"

I slammed my bedroom door and locked it behind me. The howl of rage from Gaz made me smile. She and I were still normal. As normal as our dysfunctional relationship got, anyway.

My room was the same disaster zone as it had been the night I shot myself. The walls were plastered with posters of obscure Bulgarian metal bands, Roswell and the odd pin up. The ceiling was an exact replica of the sky above the roof, the stars painted on in glow-in-the-dark paint. Of course this was only accurate on the anniversary of when it had been painted (because the planet turns, oh smart one) but I didn't mind the inaccuracy. My mom had painted it for me when I was still in a crib.

My earliest memory is of watching her with a paintbrush clenched in her teeth, clinging to the ladder with one hand and consulting the star chart she held in the other. Gaz told me that had been on my third birthday. (That would have made her about five). Every year on the fifth of September I'd make a point to leave my window open all day so the paint would be able to glow at night. Cheesy? Oh, hell, yeah, but it was tradition.

I peeled off the straight jacket and dropped it onto a pile of junk. The floor was already a mess of electronics cables, jewel cases and clothes- what would one more thing change? My shirt followed it. My lip curled in disgust as I looked in the mirror adjacent to my door. (Is it possible to have a self-loathing narcissist? Hello? You're reading the life story of one!) The square of gauze covered both my healing bullet wound and my left nipple. It made my body look off-balance. I looked down and poked at my ribcage and stomach. I prodded at what little weight I hadn't lost in the last year. The muscle had melted off into fat for lack of use. There wasn't much there to whine about but it still made me shudder. I wouldn't be eating tonight, or if I did it'd be something light, like crackers or lettuce. I had to get rid of this flab. It was revolting.

I turned to the window with a tired sigh. The neighbors were having a wedding in their back yard. There would be a mariachi band playing well into the night. A cursory glance at the clock told me it was just past seven.

Gaz should be screaming at me to come eat my dinner any time now. My stomach liked that idea and felt the need to tell me so.

"Shut the fuck up, you. You haven't earned your meal." I muttered to it, dropping onto my bed and curling against the wall.

I stared at the paint near the circular window. There was still blood smeared there. I'd pulled the trigger and dropped the gun, my hand flying to my chest because, stupid me, I hadn't expected it to hurt. When the adrenaline had kicked in I'd wiped the side of my hand along the wall, just for the hell of it. Dad had had my carpeting, mattress and bed frame replaced. My sheets had been incinerated. He'd forgotten to have the walls repainted.

I stroked the bloodstain. It was brown because it had been there for a couple of weeks. I'd only been out of the hospital for a few days. It wasn't my fault I hadn't noticed it yet. Still, it must be lonely. Poor blood smear.

There was a shout from the neighbors' place. It was enough good cheer to make me wish I could give them a gift. Perhaps a Molotov cocktail would be fitting.

I knew the groom, if only from parents' nights in greyd and midel skool. He was a single father of four girls. His life must be a living hell for 25% of every month. I remembered watching the house's morning routine one day when I'd had the flu. (Yes, I used my telescope to spy on them. That doesn't make me a stalker, just a concerned neighbor.) He was a good single-father. He'd woken them, fed them, dressed the ones young enough to need it and French-braided each of the girls' hair and still had time to let them bicker over what CD to listen to in the car on the way to the school. He took good care of them. I should be happy for him.

Instead I wanted to see the wedding party go up in flames. They shouldn't be happy. Those girls should not get to wear pretty little pink dresses and giggle and be thrilled with their new mom. Even the teenaged daughter was happy about it. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

Dad couldn't French braid to save his life. My hair was short- besides that I'm a guy- and Gaz would chew his hands off if he got them anywhere near her preciously dyed and cared-for hair. That wasn't the point, though. You don't get it.

I spent the rest of the night listening to my stomach scream at me and cringing as the mariachi band played out of tune. I stared at my blood on the wall. After a long time it started to get light again. I realized I still had my boots on and took them off carefully, lacing and buckling them back up after they were off. Then I threw them as across the room as hard as I could, one at a time. I heard something break but it was still too dim to see what it was.

Gaz pounded on her wall in response. I think it was Morse Code for "Shut Up, Dib".

xXx

I think I slept for about six or seven hours before the sun pouring through my window started to get too hot. Summer was most definitely not my favorite season. I kicked off the blankets and crawled to the shade at the foot of my bed. Damn sunlight. Evil, burning, painful sunlight.

There was a knock at my door. I grunted in its direction and Dad stepped halfway into my room. The sun was up and he was standing in my personal cave. I just about had a heart attack.

"Good afternoon son."

Say "Hi" Dib! Go on, say it! Be friendly- this might be your only chance. He's never ever-ever-ever-ever-ever home! What if he's home just to see you? Be nice. I continued staring at him. My mouth had gone dry. I kept seeing the Dad I'd grown up with, which is to say Professor Membrane. The man was famous. His life's work and his television show had a cult following. How the hell was I supposed to have a normal conversation with that?

"How are you feeling today?"

Cut the concerned-parent crap. We both know you're only protecting your image. Wow. Where'd the anger come from? From you, you dolt. I kept my mouth shut around that one and blinked at him. His high-collared lab coat was luminous in the early afternoon light. I told myself that it was starting to make my eyes water.

"We cooked up a new batch of mutants last night. Would you like to go feed them?" He was messing with biology and DNA again. He'd done it a lot when I was still a kid and I'd loved playing with his creations, however short and painful their lives were.

I used to feel intimidated when he looked at me. His freakish glasses always gave the impression that his eyes were behind them, burrowing straight through your soul. His glasses irked me. They'd look better broken on the floor. He had no right to keep his eyes hidden from the world- no one could tell whether he was lying or not.

After a few more minutes of silence he conceded defeat. "Look, my assistant is out sick and I couldn't leave the alone mutants in the lab. They could escape in kill someone. They're in our basement-lab instead. I don't have time to feed them."

"Why can't you do it?" There was my voice! Finally. Ooh, I sounded pissed.

"I'm needed in Cambodia at the moment." That was his version of goodbye. "Oh, Son, you might want to put your glasses on when you go to feed the mutants. They bite so you'll need to have all your faculties functioning to full capacity. Their food is in the refrigerator next to the ammonium nitrate."

Then he was gone. I'd spoken five words to the man and one of them was a contraction. Nice goin', Dib. I'm sure you made a great post-mental-ward impression.

"Shut it."

I slid from my bed and ran my hands through my hair, tugging the knots out of it. Once or twice I even came away with a good hunk of hair ripped out in my fingers. In the hospital they hadn't allowed me to cut my own hair and I'd refused to let anyone else near it. It was getting a bit shaggy. At the moment it was too greasy to defy gravity. That's what happens when you don't feel like doing jack shit for hygiene. I was still sporting yesterday's morning breath.

Gaz shrieked when I walked through the living room. "Oh god I'm going blind! It burns! Crawl back into the hole you came from!"

Beside her on the couch, attached to a matching Game Slave III, Tak giggled. I looked down and realized I was still half dressed.

"You just wish you weren't a lard ass, Gaz. You're jealous because I wear a smaller pants-size than you." I pulled my socks off one at a time, eliciting a groan of disgust from the alien on the couch. Success. I'd freaked out my sister and her girlfriend and managed to balance on one leg all at the same time.

"They're called hips, Dib. Get your freakishly twiggy skeleton out of my living room."

I smirked as I walked away. Gaz got territorial when Tak was over. She didn't like their "gaming" to be interrupted. "I may be skinny but at least the only person willing to sleep with me isn't an alien freak."

Tak hissed and Gaz snarled. Yup, those two were made for each other. "At least I can get laid Dib! At least I'm not a closeted loser like you!"

She threw something but it was just for dramatic effect. I was already headed down to our basement where her projectiles couldn't reach me. I think I'd accidentally touched a nerve with that one. _Oh, well, shit happens._

The home lab was white washed and pristine. The linoleum on the floor reflected the florescent lighting above. My bare feet squeaked on its surface. It was a little too clean. A coffee pot stood against the wall on one of the counters along with a mug. I sniffed the coffee, just to make sure I wasn't going to drink one of Dad's experiments, and poured myself some. It was strong enough to be considered tar and just about as black. It was cold. It was nasty. I drank it anyway. If it were good enough for Dad it'd do me just fine. What was more, I needed to stay awake. My nearly-all-nighter was dragging me down.

The newly hatched mutants were in a cage in the back corner of the lab. It reminded me of a child's playpen but with wire mesh siding and an industrial sized hamster water bottle. The mutants themselves didn't look like they were capable of biting or scratching or doing much of anything. They were little puffs of fur about the size of my fist. They sat bunched up together in the far corner. The fur pile was quivering. I wondered if that was a reaction to fear or something more sinister.

"Look," I said to them, "I'm just here to feed you. I promise I'm not going to do anything unholy like try to put you back into your component parts or dissect you. I only do that to alien mutants. As far as I can tell you're made up of things from Earth so we should be on good terms."

The giant puffball remained in its corner but stopped quivering. I chose to take that as a good sign and not a mark of a potential attack. Dad had left the top off of their pen, which must have meant they couldn't jump high enough to rip my face off, right?

The puffballs' food consisted of a pile of raw steaks that I pulled out of the fridge. I looked from the meat to the mutants and back to the meat. Each steak was the size of all of them put together. There was no way they could eat them all. I shrugged and settled on dropping them into the metal pen one at a time. If the little monsters appeared to want more I'd give them more.

A shrill chorus of pure puffball joy arose when I dropped the first steak in. They worked their way to the middle of the cage with a scuttling sound. It was their claws clicking on the metal. I could see them like centipede legs- only longer and sharper- when they moved. Okay, so maybe these little guys really could do some damage. Within seconds the steak was gone and the puffballs were pushed up against the side of the cage where I stood, towering over them. Some of their strange, long yellowish fur was poking through the holes in the mesh. They made slurping sounds.

I cracked a bit of a smile then. These guys were actually kind of cute. I fed them another steak, letting it drop into the middle of their cage with a meaty plop. They scuttled back to it, all of them finding space to stand on the large hunk of cow flesh and work their way down. I didn't think they had heads. Perhaps their mouths were on the bottom of their bodies like an octopus'?

Gaz had appeared beside me.

I jumped and it took me a minute to speak. "Where's Tak?"

"I sent her home."

"Oh."

"Enjoying yourself?"

Though the influx of hormones had doomed her to an emotional existence six years ago she still had her moments of being freakishly quiet and ominous. I didn't trust her because of that. We could hurl insults at each other all day long but I knew that, somewhere deep inside my sister, there laid a monster waiting for the chance to kill. It was times like this that reminded me of that fact. We could have a completely mellow conversation but her vicious squint and silent walk would betray her.

"Sort of, I guess."

"You'd better. Dad made them for you."

"No he didn't." I dropped the puffs another steak and they cried up at me in sheer gratitude. Apparently they ate a lot.

"He made them for you when you were a kid, Dib. He did it to show you that the paranormal things you studied were, at best, lab-created. You were just too young and stupid to realize it so he stopped." She watched the mutants through her hair. I wondered if she thought they were as cute as I did.

"Gee, that's a cheering thought, Gaz. Keep in mind, aliens do exist. In case you forgot, you're dating one."

She turned to me and glared, her hair out of her eyes for one of the few times on record. I shrank away. She may have been a head shorter but she was still one scary chick. "When you're done moping down here meet me in the kitchen."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to, Dib! Don't even think of disobeying. Since they raised the age of legal adulthood to twenty I can do whatever I want to you and not go to prison!" As she stalked away I fought the urge to correct her. Some crimes were heinous enough that children could be tried as adults.

"Never trust something that survives bleeding for a week straight."

I chuckled. Zim had told me that back in midel skool. We'd had a few weeks of peace back then. He'd hit a growth spurt over the summer and was a head taller than me. (The being, obviously, before I hit six feet. Pay attention you idiot.) After he'd had his fun bragging and being a general nuisance we'd spent about fifteen minutes waiting at the bus stop together. I'd been complaining about my sister's habit of trapping me in conversations that made me look like fool and that had been his reply.

He'd been out of school the next day and for a week after that. When I went to see what was going on- the freak must have been planning some new method of conquest, I was sure of it- his base was nowhere to be found. The demonic lawn gnomes were even gone. It took me about a month to realize that his height had been the reason he left. He was now able to gain some semblance of power in Irken society. He didn't have to be trapped on this obnoxious rock anymore so he'd packed up his life and left.

I started babbling to the mutants. They squeaked on occasion as if they really understood what I was talking about. "Needless to say (though I'll tell you anyway) I felt that I'd gotten the short end of the stick. The only way I could get proof of a pending alien invasion after that was to stalk Tak and there was no way that was happening. She was friends with my sister and I did not need to get my ass kicked by either of them. I ended up dropping out of the Swollen Eyeball Network. I got bored so I hacked into Dad's research fund and blew gobs of money on shit I didn't need (e.g. clothes, electronics, a gun). He had mega-gobs of research funding, though, so it didn't matter if the books were a few thousand dollars off here and there. It was just an accounting error.

"I started having auditory hallucinations when I was fourteen, which is the official way of saying that I started hearing voices. It was nice to have someone to talk to. When they told me to go saw a cheerleader's legs off I told Dad about it. …It sounded like a funny idea to me. I didn't get why it freaked him out so much, but it was nice to see him panic at something. Refreshing…" I fed the puffs their final steak. They were starting to slow down. They must have been getting full.

"After that I saw my first psychologist and had a psychiatrist prescribe some anti-psychotics. The drugs worked for a while but, as anyone on meds knows, puberty fucks with brain chemistry and the drugs started fucking with my head. There were no more voices, no, but I got depressed. Simple apathy turned into all sorts of degrees of self-loathing, projection and repressed rage. Fun psychological shit, I'll tell you what. Then one day I decided to shoot myself because I was pissed at Dad for never being around and now we're here."

My new mutants had bunched up in the corner closest to my legs. They weren't moving but, judging from the occasional twitch, they were still alive. I hoped they stayed that way for a while.

* * *

_A/N: Like what you saw? Then let us know!_

_Macy and Nae will give snacks to reviewers. 3_


	3. 2: Restless

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Invader Zim or anything else that Jhonen Vasquez's mind has produced. Shocking, isn't it?**

**Now here's the next chapter. You will read it, you will review it, and you will enjoy it! **

* * *

Gaz was waiting for me in the kitchen. On the table in front of her were a massive bowl and a box of Cheerios. What did the O's have to be cheery about? They were just going to get digested.

"You're really going to eat all of that?" I sat across from her.

She poured the cereal into the bowl up to the brim. "Nope. You are. Its breakfast time for you, Dib." She sauntered to the refrigerator and pulled out the orange milk carton. She poured in just enough to coat the bottom of the bowl. I couldn't cheat and say I didn't want it because it was soggy. Bitch.

"You can't make me eat, Gaz," I laughed. "And people think I'm the crazy one?"

She pushed the bowl in front of me and stabbed a spoon into it. "You're going to eat and you're going to fucking like it. Otherwise Tak and I will personally drag your butt down to meet my new stylist and we'll be having a spa day. Just us girls."

Did she really have to keep making jabs about my sexuality? I thought this was supposed to be some sort of anorexia intervention, not a hypocrisy convention.

"What are you waiting for? _Eat_."

I glanced down at the bowl. Make an idiot of myself in skool? _Sure_. Rescue some nerd from becoming pulp for hai skool lunches at the expense of my own leg? _In a heartbeat_. Feed my hand to carnivorous mutants? _Easy_. Fight to save the planet from aliens? _Yeah_, _even if its been a while and I'm a little rusty, these people would still die without me_. Shoot myself out of sheer boredom? _Already did it!_

_Eat a bowl of Cheerios?_

I wasn't so sure if I could do that.

My stomach contracted. It was a massive hunger pang, the type I hadn't gotten since going into the hospital. They'd made me at least pretend to eat three times a day there so I hadn't ever been quite this hungry since before the suicide attempt. (Failure). I thought I was going to be sick.

"If you eat you'll feel better." Gaz was smirking at me, no doubt laughing at how I was doubled over in pain just because I didn't want to eat. Eating like ravenous swine was something that guys my age did on a regular basis and this was my stomach's way of reminding me of that. "You're nutrient starved. I'm going to give you multi-vitamins after you finish eating. And a glass of milk, possibly some orange juice, too. You don't need your teeth falling out from scurvy. I will sit here all day if I have to. _Now fucking eat_." She snarled the last three words, pounding her fist on the table.

The spoon almost trembled hard enough to send the cereal flying from it when I scooped up a bite. Everything seemed to be "almost". Damn it. Couldn't I catch a break just once? Shit. As I chewed the cereal I started to salivate. That was a bad sign- I was getting truly hungry. A could feel the binge coming on and my sister was all too glad to help me with it.

By about the fifth bite I was stuffing my face. When the first bowl was gone Gaz refilled it, this time being generous with the milk. It was a miracle that I didn't vomit though I suppose the force-feeding in the hospital had helped my body be accustomed to taking in food. When the cereal was gone I ate whatever Gaz put in front of me, which, of course, was all health food. Pita chips, grapes, strawberries, a hunk of chicken left over from last night- really, I ate indiscriminately. She could have put raw meat from Krazy Taco in front of my and I'd have eaten it.

At some point she stopped putting food in front of me and I stopped eating. I hoped my stomach wouldn't rip open, spilling acid inside my body cavity to eat away at my internal organs while I died from sepsis. It was quite the relief when she didn't give me the milk and orange juice as promised- I didn't think my stomach could take any more.

"Go shower, Dib. You stink. I'll be waiting outside the door listening so don't even think about throwing up."

Gaz had reached extent of her capacity for sisterly caring. I hoped she never had children. They would grow up to be as mean as she was. I told her as much and she flipped me off. Nevertheless I obeyed her order, trudging to the bathroom that, as the frilly torture-chamber décor indicated, my sister allowed me to use.

xXx

Being clean felt surprisingly good. The whole process of taping a square of plastic over the gauze that protected the hole in my chest was a bother but it was only something I'd have to do for a little while longer. I had a doctor's appointment the next day to be declared a physically healthy individual and to be released.

It was a bit annoying that- since Gaz had thrown out all of my toiletries when I'd shot myself to make room for more of her things (she wasn't the grieving type)- I smelled like a girl. I think her shampoo was honeysuckle- and vanilla-scented or something along those lines. Other than that, though, I couldn't complain. She had relatively good taste.

"Besides, her conditioner made my hair really soft," I rationalized to myself, slipping a t-shirt on over my bondage pants. I wasn't ready to admit that I liked it.

I kicked a pile of jewel cases aside and sat at my desk. My computer stared back at me, its flat screen monitor gathering a bit of dust. I fished come canned air (which is really diflouroethane, if you want to get technical) and sprayed the dust off of it in a cloud. I did the same for the keyboard. Dust-free they seemed less neglected.

My finger itched to push the power button, to connect myself to the world beyond my bedroom. It was really easy but I wouldn't do it. Perhaps I was punishing myself for something I didn't know I'd done yet. I can't say for sure. All I know is that I straight up refused to turn on my computer. I sat staring at the screen for the better part of an hour until my sister pummeled my door saying that it was time for her to drive me to therapy.

Gaz watched me take my new anti-psychotics, anti-depressants, a multi-vitamin and a calcium supplement before we left. She even went so far as to grab my face and wrench my mouth open to make sure I wasn't hiding any of the pills in my cheek or under my tongue. Then I folded myself into her Volkswagen Bug and we were off.

Did I forget to mention that they'd taken away my driver's license? Yeah, they did. Or rather, Dad told them to. He didn't want me running away. He wanted me to recover in the safety of my own home.

_Very funny, Dad, because we all know that mental illness is the sort of thing that just goes away on its own._

I didn't do anything productive in therapy. I didn't feel much like it. I still had indigestion and was pissed that my stomach was rounded because of the food I'd stuffed into it. Well… that's not quite true, the unproductiveness thing... When Dr. Morrison asked me again why I'd tried to kill myself I had this to say: "I thought I already told you. I needed a change."

After the appointment I went home and stayed up all night again, steadily drinking cup after cup of the tar-brew Dad called coffee. It made me jittery and alive. I started reading the leather-bound encyclopedia set that was stashed under my bed. There were at least two volumes of thin pages with dinky print for each letter.

When I was half was through the first "B" volume Gaz stormed into my room. She put a plate in my lap on top of the encyclopedia. On it was something that looked like it had crawled from the kitchens at McMeaties.

"Eat it."

"Gaz, thanks, but I'm still really, really full from earlier." It wasn't quite true but the hamburger on the plate looked like it was still alive.

"I said, _EAT IT!" _She stood in front of me, blocking my only escape route other than the window. Knowing my luck I'd throw myself out of it and die on accident.

I took a tentative bite of the burger. It was exactly as I remembered McMeaties' food tasting- flavorless except for the salt and dripping with grease. I had a hard time swallowing but, from the wicked stare she gave me, I didn't doubt that Gaz would shove it down my throat if I didn't comply.

She gave a curt nod of approval. "Good boy. Finish it. You need the carbs and the protein."

"I don't really like red meat, sis…"

"I don't care," she growled, "Healthy people need to eat light meals up to six times a day. The computer says so. Gorging you earlier was my way of proving a point and torturing you with it: you need to eat. This is the start of your six light meals a day. Next will be a salad in a few hours, if you're awake. You will eat it, you will digest it and you will be healthy, Dib. Deal with it."

I took another bite and the look of impending homicide left her face. That was a relief. She stuck around for the remainder of my meal, her attention focused on- what else?- her Game Slave. When I was done she took the plate back and sat outside my room for the better part of two hours, making sure that I didn't decide to shove my finger down my throat during one of my bathroom breaks.

Idiot. I glowered her after getting up to make a new pot of coffee and finding her tailing me, eyes glued to the game's screen. There was a difference between anorexia and bulimia! Bulimics were the ones that binged and purged. Anorexics just flat out didn't eat and sometimes went on exercise binges. My binging on food was just a freak occurrence. Eventually she went away and I resumed reading.

I got halfway through the D's by dawn.

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**A/N: So there we have it, minions. Love it? Hate it? Think we can improve? Think we're perfect? Well, then let us know! Reviewers get majorly loved on. No lie. **

**~ Invader Nae & justmacy**


	4. 3: Empty

**A/N: Here's the next chapter because we love you all! 3**

**Disclaimer: I **still** don't own Zim or JtHM or any of those wonderful things. I'd probably have an anyurism if I suddenly did. Justmacy doesn't own them either. Sorry folks.**

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The sun poked through the black out curtains hung over my window and shone right in my face. Stubborn bastard. I crunched my eyes shut tight and groped around to shut the curtains more. Alas, I failed in my attempts. I sat up begrudgingly and looked at my clock. It was six thirty-five... _In the morning._

_Too early for a sane person to be awake._

"Then I guess its just right for me. Suck it up- it's the first day of skool," I grumbled, digging around in the nearest pile for something to wear. I came back with something that smelled clean and was studded. It'd do.

"Are you alive? Time for breakfast, Dib!" Gaz pounded on my door some more.

That was what had woken me. I just couldn't get enough of the sisterly way she spat out my name. There was such venom in her voice. It was sweet. I opened my door, scratching at the round scar on my chest. The little round hunk of shiny flesh itched a lot even though it should have been done healing back in July.

My sister growled at me. "You'll blind the neighbors. Put a shirt on and come down stairs. Its time for your cereal."

I somehow managed not to slam the door in her face. I shrugged into the first shirt I grabbed (I discovered later in the day that it read "Love your enemies. It'll piss them off." How apropos.) As promised the plum-haired demon I shared a house with was waiting for me in the kitchen. Her menu was sickeningly predictable. Care to take a crack at what breakfast would be? Yeah, that's right, Cheerios. At least it was a hard food to screw up. She couldn't really go wrong unless she poured cottage cheese on it instead of milk.

She joined me at the kitchen table, munching a bagel with one hand and playing her video game with the other. I considered asking her if she'd sought help for her addiction. She must have heard my thoughts because she glared at me for a solid ten seconds before resuming her game.

When we left the house she left her precious Game Slave next to the bowl where the car keys were kept.

_That's Impressive. …Do you hate her car as much as I do?_

"I'm not supposed to listen to you."

_But don't you hate it?_

I sat with the passenger's seat pushed back as far as it would go and I still had to bend my legs up to fit into the little Bug properly. "You bet I do."

xXx

Hai Skool.

I hadn't set foot on its campus in three whole months. My peers hadn't seen me and vice versa. They had _no idea_. There they were, gathered around the building. They huddled in protective circles on the lawn, lounged on the steps and leered out from the pillars that supported the metal awning over the front walkway. They were all in the same place with the same general purpose: survive the next year and get it over with as quickly as possible, taking as many others down along the way as they could.

"At least you're too tall to stuff into a locker, though I expect that you're still light enough to get thrown into the dumpster."

Gaz's comforting commentary was delivered without looking at me. She stared out the windshield and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. My sister was easy enough to read- she wanted to get back home and get on the computer. (Hai Skool had too many bad memories. Her tormentors had only made her more merciless, though. Lucky her.) She was taking classes at a top online university and making pocket money designing websites in her free time. (Dad paid for her education, of course).

"Get out of my car, Dib."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and crawled out of the tiny purple vehicle. My sister only allowed enough time for my to grab my backpack before she peeled away from the curb. The VW's door almost took my hand off as it slammed shut. I watched the car become a speck on the horizon then turned to the place that would become my second home by default for the next nine months.

The farther I walked the more something very important became clear to me: I was now a Senior. Most of the assfaces who'd shoved me into lockers, dumped trays of food on my head and consistently brought up the subject of my less-than-sane state had graduated. They were gone. Sure, there were still a few bullies left but they no longer had any role models to follow around. They would be clueless. All the other potential jerks were younger than me because, guess what? That's right. I was a _Senior_. I was proud of and ready to accept my place at the top of the food chain. I was tall, scary-looking and way above 75% of the student body in the hierarchy.

This profound revelation made me smirk and straighten up as I (can you believe it?) strutted through the halls. I could have sworn I saw a few of the freshman girls gawping up at me in awe. I knew where I was going, what I was doing, and how exactly to get there. They wished they could be half as cool and collected on the first day of school. It might have been the anti-depressants working in harmony with my anti-psychotics, but I felt damn good!

My first class was Anatomy and Physiology with Mr. Mortiz on the far side of the school. The classroom came with a nice view of an industrial plant across the street and the river that its waste was dumped into. That lovely view, combined with the fascinating welcome-back lecture, put me straight to sleep. I think I passed out just in time to use my new course outline and expectations packet as a pillow. The same lecture would be repeated in all of my classes with only slight variations- staying awake through it six times would be a waste of precious energy. (Not to mention the fact that I'd heard it eighteen times total in previous years!) I knew I wasn't missing much.

I woke up before the bell rang, irritated at my conscious state. The door opening had interrupted Mr. Mortiz's droning and woken me. There was a late arrival. My classmates and I stared at the kid but I couldn't see him very well unless I squinted- my glasses had stayed on the lab table where my head ought to have still been. All I could make out was the vaguely male blob at the front of the room asking Mr. Mortiz to please forgive his lateness.

_Whatever. Go back to sleep._

I readily obeyed, tucking my head back into my arm and dozing off again. I didn't move until class was over. I stayed in a sleepy daze through my Amerikan Government and English classes. It was a warm day and I really didn't think the Swiss manufacturers of my backpack could have made it any softer if they'd tried. It made a great pillow, a big, green-striped, comfy pillow.

I drifted back to reality during fourth period because there was no desk to sleep on. I was stuck sitting on the gym's collapsible bleachers with two-dozen other guys. Coach Limpia was in charge of us. He was the ideal PE coach- huge and hairy with a beer gut to boot. He informed us, not without much bellowing, that we had to have $20.00 with us the next day so we could buy our PE uniforms. Otherwise we'd be doing push-ups with someone sitting on our back for the better part of the hour. My malnourished muscles ached at the thought. After we were all dressed out, he said, we'd start off the year with a rousing game of Slaughter Ball. Cheers went up all around me and I managed a crooked smile to hide my anxiety.

Slaughter Ball was the bigger, angrier cousin of Bludgeon Ball. The basic rules were the same: pummel everyone else and whoever's left standing wins. I'd had my first and final experience with the game freshman year. I wasn't so good at keeping secrets back then so it had quickly become a round of Smear the Queer. You can guess who was playing the Queer and who was doing the Smearing. I'll give you a hint: I'd only recently regained feeling in my left arm. The doctor said it went numb because repeated blows to one part of my back had messed up the nerves leading to it.

_Dude, chill. Look around you- most of these guys are underclassmen. They weren't here during your freshman year. They don't know you're gay. You have a shot at surviving._

I nodded slowly. There were a few fleeting thoughts of playing Slaughter Ball with some amount of mercy tomorrow. I batted them away with an impatient hand. No, these underclassmen would pay for the sins of their predecessors. They would go limp off to lunch after fourth period tomorrow wishing they had changed their schedules when they could. They would be in awe at the viciousness of the crazy kid. _I would conquer them all._

I chuckled to myself when yet another bell dismissed us. (Bells are the government's chosen method of mind control. In a decade or two we'll be living in a totalitarian state. Any resistance could be easily done away with because the sound of a Bell ringing will send citizens into a docile, zombified state. At some point after that we'll all die. Well, maybe not me because my Dad _is_ the great Professor Membrane, but everyone else would be extinguished for sure).

I picked at table by the window and dumped the contents of my backpack onto its round top. There was a nice view of the parking lot- everything from the jock's cars to the teacher parking could be seen. This covered most of the inhabited territory. It was prime real estate for fights during lunch. If I claimed it now then I could charge admission to fights later in the year. I fixed any passing undesirables who looked like they wished to join me with a death glare until they passed, shuffling their feet and wondering what they'd done wrong. It was _my_ table. They needed to find somewhere else to sit.

Gaz had packed me a lunch because she assumed I was too incompetent to do it on my own. (Which isn't true! I'm clinically depressed and prone to hearing voices. I'm perfectly capable of preparing food… I don't happen to care about eating). It occurred to me, as I peeled the infuriating plastic wrap from my sandwich, that this was the first time in a month that I'd eaten without her supervision. That was probably why she'd dumped a box of granola bars into my backpack as we left, demanding that I eat at least two of them during the day to keep up my blood sugar. There was an "or else" attached to that demand and I had a growing suspicion that she was watching me. I made a mental note to eat a granola bar after my sandwich.

I chased each bite with water. Gaz had made the sandwich dry, nothing on the bread but bologna and cheese. Plain but edible and relatively healthy. It was perfectly acceptable for her to live off of junk food but she refused to let me do the same.

_It wouldn't be a big deal if she could at least make an appetizing sandwich!_

"I know what you mean. Its enough to make anyone not hungry," I muttered, "as if I were hungry to begin with." I glanced down at my class schedule. Chemistry was next, followed by Physics. Those were two classes I couldn't wait for. Sure, Government and A+P were fun (English and PE were sent to us from Satan with hatred and loathing) but Chemistry and Physics? Say hello to my life's purpose.

The kid who'd shown up to A+P late caught my eye and I really lost my appetite. He was walking towards my table and my brain refused to function.

_Glower! Smile! Growl at the guy, just do something, Dib!_

I settled on staring down at my food like it had started to grow a head and talk. It was rather embarrassing but it was better than staring at the black-haired, blue-eyed stranger who (God help me!) dressed like me. I watched his boots walk by out of the corner of my eye, struggling to maintain some composure. Staying under the omnipresent Gaydar of my fellow students was a priority.

Girls didn't know how lucky they were. They could sit around and blush and giggle over guys all day long and no one would have a damn clue what they were doing or why they were acting like such idiots. Girls sucked royally.

I balled up the plastic wrap from my sandwich and stuffed it into the bottom of my backpack. I reluctantly unwrapped one of the granola bars and stared at it. I did not want to eat it.

_Relax. You get to play slaughter ball tomorrow and do who-knows-how-many sports and whatnot daily until June. You're not going to get fat._

"Tell that to my scale," I griped, taking a reluctant bite. I didn't want to risk my sister's wrath no matter how loath I was to eat. I shuddered at the memory of the electronic scale's reading after my shower that morning. The number 130 mocked me still. I'd gained almost 20 pounds since my return from the hospital two months ago.

_Yeah, you are a lard ass, but at least your pants still fit._

" 'Cause they're baggy." I threw the remains of the granola bar in the trash and slunk out of the cafeteria. I didn't know how I was going to stomach eating another one of those before I went home. I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

xXx

Tak was sitting on the couch and plucking away at her laptop when I got home. I'd modified its keyboard to fit the Irken's hands when Gaz had bought it for her last Christmas. (She did this against Dad's express wishes that Christmas be banned in our household. I'm tellin' you, the man had to have had some indecent contact with Santa). Ever since then she and I had had some sort of strange peace between us. She kept Gaz from killing me and I helped customize her human electronics. She was also kind enough to ignore the insults I flung in her general direction when my sister and I argued.

Genuinely looking at her disguise for the first time in years I realized she was kind of cute. It made me wish that I liked girls and that she liked… humans. Gaz wasn't technically human anymore- her Game Slave had wired itself into her brain and now she couldn't survive without it. She was part machine.

"Where's my sister?"

"Grocery shopping." Her feline SIR unit started winding itself around my legs, making me trip. I fought the urge to drop kick it. I knew from experience that it would claw my face off then _Tak_ would claw my face off. It wasn't a pleasant experience. Tak chuckled.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm waiting for Gaz, obviously." There was a pause long enough for me to assume she was done speaking. "She says you need to feed the mutants and that you did good today, whatever that means."

My eyes bugged out a bit.

_I told you she was watching you!_

Sweet Christ on a pogo stick that was creepy. "Thanks for telling me, Tak," I choked out, turning around and heading towards the basement. Wow. You were polite to the alien freak. I think you get good karma points for that.

"I think I should tell someone about you." My inner narrator had been back for quite a while. Today was the most active he'd been in over a month, though. I was starting to be concerned.

_Quit thinking- its bad for your health. Just go feed your pets._

"Hey, Dib!"

I turned around, leaning against the basement door. "Yeah?"

"Why did you try to kill yourself? Your sister is worried that you'll do it again. Were you manufactured without a self-preservation instinct?"

I thought back to what I felt on that day with the muzzle of the pistol against my chest. I hadn't eaten in about a week and was finally feeling thin when I'd accidentally bumped into someone at the mall. They'd called me fat. It wasn't much of an insult coming from a dude that clearly had a problem with food himself- he'd made me look like a twig. It had fucked with my head though- enough to snap me out of my malnourished trance and start up the hunger pangs again. (To think it was just when I'd trained myself to stop feeling them!)

"I was hungry."

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**A/N: Hey, you! Yeah, you! We're talking to you. What do you think? We wanna know! **

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**Love and Muffins,**

**Invader Nae & justmacy**


	5. 4: Forgotten

**A/N: Guess what? Go on! Guess!**

**[By the way: DISCLAIMER: I do not own Invader Zim or JtHM (No matter how much I love referencing the latter). If I did the world would probably end.]**

**P.S. This has been reposted because Nae is a total blondie and forgot to edit for typos and things that should be in italics!  
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The lab was strangely empty and devoid of shrill hunger cries. It was well past the mutants' usual feeding time. They ought to have been raising hell and attempting to climb on top of one another to get out of their cage to go find some bloody meat. Finding their playpen empty I started to worry. I heard Dad humming to himself in the opposite corner of the lab. I panicked.

"Dad?" I was still staring down at the mutants' little enclosure, wondering where they were and imagining the worst.

"Son! I didn't hear you come down. How can I help you?"

_He sounds like a Super Mart employee._

"Where are my mutants?"

"I'm dissecting them. They were doing remarkably well so I thought I'd take the opportunity to see how they worked."

_What?_

"What?" I stumbled across the lab (several carts and boxes insisted on blocking my path) to where he stood by a sink. One of the mutants was pinned down in a dissection tray. Its fluffy top was flayed open and its innards were on display. The tiny organs had a purplish cast to them.

"Would you like to watch?" Naturally he assumed my dropped jaw and eyes full of tears meant wonder and amazement, not shock, pain and horror.

I ripped the scalpel from his hand and flung it across the room. "You have no right to cut up my mutants," I growled.

"Now, Dib, be rational," he began in a familiar, condescending tone, " these are not your mutants. They aren't pets. They were genetically engineered animals and, seeing the success that they had, they needed to be dissected so that any internal defects can be weeded out in the next batch. It isn't as though they care what happens to them."

Trying very hard not to scream I pulled the mutant from its dissection tray and shoved it in Dad's face. The whole not-screaming thing was a total failure, but then again I never really had very high expectations of success.

"Tell that to Lieutenant Butt Scoots, Dad! Did you ever stop to think that these things might like being alive! They were healthy! I even think Colonel Mustard and Cuddles were gonna have babies! Babies, Dad! You're a baby killer! This is infanticide! For God's sake I even taught Squee to jump on fucking command! He was good at it!" I gripped the lapels of Dad's lab coat in one hand and shook him while gesturing wildly with the other, flinging bits of the Lieutenant's innards everywhere.

"They were not just your damn experiments, Dad! What's more, they were mine! Don't you dare say they weren't! That is bullshit!

"Who fed them, huh? Who made sure they didn't suffocate in the post-feeding fur pile, huh? Who was the one that made sure Sir Wiglebaum actually got to eat, huh? He would have starved if it weren't for me!" Sir W. was the runt of the pack. I held a special place in my heart for that one.

"I know for a fact that it wasn't you who did all that, Dad!" Panting, I released him, smoothing out his coat and accidentally smearing it with Lieutenant Butt Scoots's blood. The mutant's corpse was still clenched in my fist. It was a ball of much, guts and fur at this point.

"They were my responsibility," I spoke in an even tone, " You should have had the decency to at least tell me before you started dissecting them. What you did was rude and extremely inconsiderate of my feelings."

"I had… no idea that you felt so strongly." His voice was shaking.

Inside I grinned. _This round goes to Team Dib. Well done, soldier_.

"No shit. You killed my babies." I folded my arms across my stomach. My bullet wound was achy and my torso felt hollow. The mutants were my summer project and I'd liked having them around. My therapist had even said that taking care of them was good for me. Now they were dead and I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. This sucked.

"They aren't all dead."

I perked up at those four words and shoved my face into Dad's, making him pull away at the personal-space invasion. "Where are the survivors?"

"There's one left in the empty aquarium and-"

I went to the aquarium, scooped the mutant up in my shirt and went back upstairs without another word. Tak was helping Gaz put away the groceries in the kitchen, albeit reluctantly. She held a pound of hamburger meat away from her body with one hand and was opening the fridge with the other.

"I'll take care of that for you, thanks."

By the time either of them had processed what had happened enough to demand my return I was locked safely in my room. I gently unrolled the mutant from the hem of my shirt. There was some light striping on its tan fur. This one was Devi. She didn't move for over a minute and I thought the stress of being moved so much in one day had killed her. At about the time when I was preparing to put her lifeless body in the trashcan she scuttled towards the package of meat, bumping into it repeatedly and making gritty noises.

I smiled and sniffed, rubbing my eyes.

_Crybaby_.

"You were worried, too."

I ripped the plastic off the top of the package then plucked Devi up by the fur and set her inside of it. (There was no way I was getting my hand anywhere near the bottom of her body. That was where her mouth was and, though none of the mutants had bitten me I wasn't about to trust that they never would). Thankfully the act didn't seem to hurt her and she went straight to eating. The slurping sounds that issued from the tiny ball of fluff were comforting. I was glad I'd saved one from Dad's ruthless pursuit of science.

When Devi was done eating squeaked again, trying to walk straight ahead. It was cute to watch her try to head butt her way out of the plastic box. I picked her up and set her on at the foot of the bed. She curled up into an armadillo-like ball and stopped moving. She was sleeping.

I tossed the meat package into the trashcan. There was no need to clean it out- the mutant had removed any and all traces of biological matter from it. I stripped down to my boxers and slid into my bed, careful not to kick my mutant. It had been a tiring day. If Gaz wanted to force-feed me she'd have to wake me up first which was a monumental task on a good day.

Curling up in my blankets I glanced down at the mutant. "Please don't gnaw my toes, face or any other body parts off while I'm sleeping, okay, Devi?" There was nothing in lieu of a reply but I felt better for having made the request.

_You're crazy._

"Look who's talking."

xXx

"DIB!"

The force of a small tornado struck my bed and sent me flying up against me bedroom wall. The blankets were wrenched from my body. I let out sound mid-way between a terrified screech and a sleepy grunt in reply.

Gaz stood at my bedside with her hands on her hips and Devi perched on her shoulder. "Dib, wake up! There are Mormons downstairs. That bumbling idiot that insists he helped produce me must have let them in. They have been here for an hour! Its your turn to make them leave."

I rubbed my hands over my face. The sun was still up. I'd only been asleep for a couple of hours at the most. "Stay up here, Gaz."

"Why?"

"You risk being blinded."

With that final warning I stalked into the hallway and downstairs, shedding clothes as I went. I paused in the bathroom to grab my sister's favorite piece of art- an intricately carved dagger from Italy. In a flash of divine inspiration I snatched up her maroon lipstick and drew a star on my stomach with it. They must have heard me coming downstairs because one of the happy churchgoers stood and began to say something about it never being to late to convert.

"I really do not have time for this, lady." I greeted the woman and her husband butt naked and brandishing the knife. She quickly sat down beside her husband, staring at me with a mixture of shock and horror. (Though I prefer to think of it as admiration.)

"Clearly the gods have answered my prayers for a real human sacrifice because I'm awesome and they love me. Now come here!" I roared and lunged for the couple, stopping about six inches away form them. They ran screaming from the house, almost tearing the door off its hinges as they left.

"Damn it."

Gaz chucked a towel at me and I obediently wrapped it around my waist. "What?"

I sighed, "I really did want to sacrifice them to the gods."

"What gods?"

"The ones my meds are supposed to make go away."

True fear crossed my sister's face for the first time in either of our lives. God I wish I'd had a camera.

I laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm kidding, sis. The voices didn't tell me that they were gods- they just kept me company. There is a difference in those types of delusions. My meds are working just fine."

"Good." There was a slight pause then, "You didn't eat. I hate you. Go eat before I rip out your esophagus and shove it up your scrawny ass."

Her icy glare made me flinch. I snatched up a box of flavored wheat crackers from the pantry and went back into hiding. Safe in my cave I curled up with Devi and read through the "H" section of my encyclopedia set. Around the entry for "hornet" I fell asleep.

xXx

"It has to be him. It can't be but it has to be."

_Of course its him!_

I closed my Anatomy and Physiology textbook. The class had been given a textbook-scavenger-hunt. The idea seemed to be familiarizing ourselves with its contents. It wasn't going so well for me or anybody else. There was lots of standing around and socializing. The latecomer from the first day stood near the window, staring down at what looked like a phone. It wasn't a phone. I knew it wasn't. I refused to believe that it was. I was also being horribly paranoid.

_Then do it! What's the worst that could happen? I'll tell you- you look like you're crazy. That's nothing new. Hell, you're clinically diagnosed as crazy. Suck it up._

"I guess you're right."

The latecomer was suspicious. The fact that he was cute meant nothing. I had a theory about him but I was too scared of being wrong to say it out loud. (Although, if my theory were correct, his cuteness would be cataclysmic in regards to my sanity). There was only one thing to do.

I sidled over to where he stood with as much stealth as I could muster. His pale eyes were still glued to the cell phone's screen. He was texting someone. Oh crap that was freakishly normal. What if-

_Do it!_

I leaned my head down a few inches so it was right next to his. "I'm still taller."

In a split second my head was smashed down into the dusty windowsill. Zim's hand gripped the collar of my shirt tight around my throat. "Not any more, Dib."

My hands had taken on a life of their own and were trying desperately to pry his fingers off. Breathing down there was getting a little difficult. With a gloating smile he released me and I collapsed onto the floor. Zim took his seat and began reading through the textbook. Of course Human Anatomy and Physiology was a course he'd take.

You know, you'll never realize how much you like a little think like breathing until you can't do it for a while. It was moments like this that had made me so appreciative of my mortality back in greyd skool. I had such a knack for living back then and I'd gotten so much out of it. Perhaps that was why I'd tried to kill myself: I'd forgotten how damn much there was to life.

I picked myself up and dusted off my shirt. I took a moment to yell at Zim before returning to my desk. "I'm still taller than you, alien freak!"

Someone at the front of the room giggled. "You're crazy."

Nice going, Dib. Now we're gonna get called crazy again and probably get jumped after skool. You were doin' fine- what the hell happened?

"I don't know what came over me," I muttered.

A poorly aimed book sailed past my head. I rolled my eyes. People were such idiots.

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**A/N: Zim's Back! 3**

**Let us know what y'all think!**

**Love and Mutants,**

**Invader Nae & justmacy  
**


	6. 5: Lonely

**A/N:**

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own Invader Zim or JtHM or any other lovely things like that. However, we do own the plot. You should have figured that out by now.**

**Anywho, yeah, we know our updates are slow. justmacy's computer is kaput and I've got school (lots of school) so we're kind of playing the waiting game and trying to prioritize. Please bear with us, darlings. Here's a chapter for being so lovely to us.**

**

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**

"Dib-stink! You will answer Zim's questions and you will answer them now." The alien sat down on top of my cafeteria table and propped his booted feet on a chair. He'd effectively interrupted my internal gloating. I'd totally owned the underclassmen in Slaughter Ball. Most of them were probably limping, if not suffering internal bleeding. I was a proud, proud man.

_Sweet angry Jesus he looks different when he's not green! He really is kind of cute. …And his voice is a little lower! How the hell did that happen? Do Irkens go through puberty? I though he was really old…_

"Shut up," I muttered then added to Zim, "Can't this wait? I'm kind of busy scowling at people and trying to blow their heads up using the powers of my mind. Actually, could you just please leave? You're sort of ruining the scary-goth-kid image by talking to me."

"Zim will not leave! He does not care about your pathetic image! How did you recognize me? Tell me now!"

_Yeah, that whole referencing himself in third person thing is still annoying. What the hell, Dib? You were so not missing out on much in these last five years._

"Its still pretty obvious that you aren't human, Zim." I stared at him like his IQ was 55 and plummeting fast. I didn't go into details because lies are best when they're simple. Man, this morning's was the luckiest attack of paranoia ever. "I mean really, Zim, do you think I'm stupid? Bear in mind that, should you answer that question with anything other than a solid "No", I will personally drag your scrawny ass outside and throw you into the barrel of used cooking oil. Do not accuse me of lying. I know that barrel _all too well_! I suffered full-body acne my sophomore year because they threw me in that fucking thing so much! Trust me, you do _not _know the meaning of pain until you've had pimples on your ass."

The alien's mouth snapped shut and he shook his head. I shuddered at the bad memories. I briefly considered mentioning that I'd only recently been able to get the stench of rotting-fried-food-grease out of my favorite trench coat but decided against it. _That _might be too much information.

"So," I took the chance to change the subject, "how'd the whole quest for power plan go once you go back home?"

He grabbed a hold of my hair and pulled me to eye-level. Sitting on the table as he was this resulted in a rather unpleasant hunched-standing-trying-twist-get-away sort of position. "How did you know about that?"

"Uh, Zim, I know you're kind of busy scalping me, but in case you haven't noticed, you're scalping me! Would you mind not doing that?"

_Oh relax. You know you like the abuse. You deserve it._

I was about to tell myself to shut up when his hand tightened in my hair. The sound that came out of my mouth was more of a hiss-whimper than the snarl I'd hoped for. My God he really was going to rip the flesh from my skull. "You really suck, you know that? This plan, like all your others, was really easy to figure out. How'd you manage to grow, like, two feet that one summer anyway?"

At long last he released my hair and I collapsed onto the table. Though I wasn't bleeding my scalp felt cold and moist. He must have ripped the skin away from my skull internally without actually tearing it. That had to be the answer. Fuck, my head hurt.

_At least all of your hair is still there. Bald spots would suck._

"I surgically lengthened my legs and spine."

I lifted my head. "You did what?"

Despite the humanoid skin he wore I could see his cheeks turning teal. "You heard me."

_Oh my God! He's blushing! He's embarrassed! This is the point where you laugh! Why aren't you laughing damn it? It's funny!_

"Th- that must have really hurt."

"Pain is unimportant," he spat out.

"Well did it work? Did the Tallest finally show you some respect? Sure, you were a failure as an Invader, but no one could accuse you of lacking ideas or enthusiasm, only poor timing."

_Why do you care? Irkens have a stupid ass-backwards political system! Their lives revolve around snacks. Stop caring. It's a waste of energy._

While I spent a few seconds spaced out and listening to my conscience- was it supposed to be so bitchy?- Zim left my table. I sighed. Okay, fine, this was how it was going to be. …Even if I had no idea what that meant yet.

_Where was I? Oh, yes, he's got a nice ass. A little skinny but I'm sure you could do much worse._

"Shut up!" I hit my head against the table a few times for good measure. Silence resumed (inside my head, that is- outside of it there was still plenty of teenaged verbal vomit in the cafeteria) and I set about finishing my lunch. I felt like I was suddenly on autopilot- I was the spectator of an empty shell. No lights were on- no one was home. Where'd my brain go?

My hands were shaking and my heart was racing. Hyperventilation was looking blike a good option. Someone was watching me. I could feel their eyes on my back but they were so well hidden in the throng that I couldn't find them when I turned around. They were always behind me. They were waiting. Waiting for what? For me to screw up? I didn't know. I was going to cry. My chest hurt.

_Why didn't you have enough sense to shoot yourself in the head?_

God damn it! My heart was trying to stab its way through my ribcage and out into the world where, once free or my body, it would laugh at me and possibly kill me.

_No "possibly" about it, dude. That thing will kill you. Why do you think I told you to fucking shoot it when you had the chance? Now there's nothing you can do. It's going to kill you for sure this time._

I realized that I was moving when I walked straight into a cheerleader. She spilled her cherry red brain freezy down the front of her white uniform. It looked like blood. She showed off her colorful and unladylike vocabulary as I kept walking past her. I don't feel like repeating her nastiness here.

_I still say that you should saw that whore's legs off. She doesn't deserve to have legs that nice._

"Please be quiet." I whimpered and curled up in the hai skool's courtyard. It was starting to rain. The light drizzle made me feel less feverish. "The last time you had that idea I got into really big trouble. Don't you remember? Please be quiet now. They're after me and they can hear you."

_Who's after you?_

"I don't know!"

No one was around to hear me scream at myself because lunch was over and because the thunder had drowned out my voice. The thunder was getting louder and louder. Lightening lit up the sky. The summer rain was warm and I was shivering with cold. I was freezing to death.

Footsteps. The footsteps of giants, of monsters.

They were coming to get me.

I hugged my knees tight against my chest. The bullet wound throbbed steadily under the hard pounding of my heart.

More lights. Light. Searchlights because they couldn't see in the murk of the rain.

They were looking for me.

They were going to take me and I didn't know if I'd come back this time. I couldn't come back this were going to kill me and people don't come back from that.

Oh dear God please help me they're here.

xXxXx

It was really bright. The sun must have been switched back on. Then why was I still cold? I couldn't move, either.

_You're such an idiot!_

Some one was screaming. Was it I? Well, yeah, but I wasn't the only one. My conscience was in on it, too. This was bad. My conscience never ever got scared.

_You need to get the hell out of here! They've got you they're going to kill you they'll make me go away!_

The whole "being-restrained" thing became less of an oddity and more of a panic-inducer the harder my heart started beating. I attempted thrashing but I couldn't even move my head. Not cool at all. So not cool. Being unable to move became being unable to breathe properly. I resorted to screaming.

"Let me go! Do you hear me! _Do you know who the fuck I am_!"

"Of _course_-"

"M_y father is looking for me! He'll have the whole army after you! My sister will impale you and eat your liver for lunch! Let me go_!"

"_**Silence**_!" The report from the slap was louder than that of a gun. Of all people I should be the one to know that.

I started crying. "Sobbing" is actually a better word, with lots of tears, snot gushing from my nose and plenty of highly unattractive sounds. Never a pretty sight, really.

_Yes, that's right, you sniveling baby! Cry for your mommy to come save you like the pathetic-_

"I'm not pathetic… please, please let me go. I-I'll do anything you want… just please don't hurt me anymore."

"Anymore! I have done nothing to hurt you yet!"

The yelling scared me and being scared made me wail even louder. This was not a nice thing to be doing. I wanted to be in school. I wanted to have Gaz threaten me with various forms of mutilation if I didn't eat. I wanted to go home and curl up with Devi and my encyclopedia set. I was going to die before I finished the "H" section! This wasn't fair!

"...I can see I'm going to get nowhere with you in this state. Filthy human…"

My left arm got stabbed rather unceremoniously and the central vein in it burned.

"You fucking _bastard_! _You said you wouldn't fucking hurt me_! I will kick your ass to Timbuktu and back! _God damn you_! I will kill you! **I'll rip out your fucking liver through your nostrils!"**

"Computer, note that swearing appears to be the beloved crutch of the… i_ntellectually deviant_. …As for you, Dib, I said I hadn't hurt you _yet_. It was perfectly acceptable for me to hurt you from that point on. Don't you think it's sad that I have a better grasp on your own language that you do?" There was a pause. "Now, are you coherent?"

I sniffled. My muscles still felt all shaky and I was disoriented as fuck, but that didn't last too long. After about a minute I figured out that I was strapped to a table and Zim was standing over me, not some nightmare. The light wasn't so blinding anymore. We were in a neater, updated version of Zim's base.

"What did you do to me?" My voice trembled. What was with that? Again: not cool.

He snorted and began unbuckling the straps that held me down. (For those of you that are interested: two for each of my limbs and one each for my head and torso). " I did absolutely nothing to harm you, if that's what you're thinking. In fact you could say that I helped you which isn't fair at all, considering."

" Considering what?" I sat up and started rubbing the feeling back into my cold fingers and toes. My hair was dry which meant I'd been here for a while. My pants were still on- a very good sign. Where'd my shirt go, though?

Zim faced me full on. Most of the right side of his face was one nasty purple bruise. "You're lucky I didn't kill you," he replied to my stunned face, "It would have been a dishonorable thing to do however. You were "stark raving mad". I believe that is how you humans put it. It would have been an easy fight and that just wouldn't have been fun."

"I did not do that do you."

His eyes narrowed. In this harsh light they were the color of the blood that was dried to my bedroom wall. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"N-no."

"Then it stands to reason that you would also not remember pounding my head into the pavement! Now be silent! I need to make sure you won't start convulsing."

I expected to hear some commentary on the alien's remarkable display of calm self-control but there was only silence. "The voice is gone."

Zim grabbed my chin and flashed a light in my eyes repeatedly, seeing if it would induce a seizure. It was more annoying than anything. My eyes watered. "Yes, yes it should be," he said, "The things you humans give your defectives are-"

"Inferior," I finished for him, agreeing with the sentiment for the first time in my life. Where was the post-dose depression? The fuzzy feeling that I was more out of control than normal? The complacency? The nausea? The general unpleasantries that come along with anti-psychotic drugs?

"Yes, admire the wondrous achievements or Irken medicine. You won't need another injection for about a week."

"Are you serious?"

"Is Zim laughing?" He moved a pen around in front of my face to make sure that my eyes would follow it properly.

"A whole week?"

"Are you deaf? A whole week! Though if you wait 167 hours and 15 minutes between injections then you may begin hallucinating again and you might start bleeding into your lungs. I suggest you only wait six days, not seven. What is it called, this confusion of human brain-meats that you suffer from?"

I rubbed the injection site on my arm self-consciously. A bruise was forming in the crook of my elbow. "Its called schizophrenia. Um… you've seen the symptoms. Paranoia is a huge part of it, too, especially with me. Really its just the tip of the proverbial iceberg."

"That means that you have more illness, right?" He stepped back and looked me over. "What else _is _there?"

That was strange. He sounded like he had trouble believing in my semi-permanent state of being: totally FUBAR. (Translation from Marine-speak: "Fucked Up Beyond All Reason"). Okay, I really would have appreciated a stop the shaky-blushing-nervousness right then and there. Naturally, that didn't happen.

"I also have anorexia nervosa and depression. Anorexia means that you don't eat because you think you're fat. The doctors tell me that I'm not but my conscience tells- told- me that I am. Gaz forces me to eat, which my therapist says is a really good thing. I don't know. I still think I could stand to lose a few pounds."

Zim stood and listened to my neurotic ramblings without the slightest hint of condescension, disbelief or fear. My explanations were accepted with calm silence. It was kind of nice. After a moment I went on, "Anyway, depression… it's like being sad but ten times worse. Its apathy and anger and self-loathing and sadness all balled up into one giant mass of inescapable muck. It… isn't fun."

He nodded and stepped closer to the table again. He gently placed one long gloved finger on the scar on my chest. The cool material was comforting. "Is that why you did that?"

The urge to overanalyze his abnormally soft tone was scary and almost kept me from answering. "Medically, yeah, it is."

He frowned and removed his finger from my chest. I missed it. "If it is a disease then how can there be a non-medical reason?"

"It's complicated, Zim. …Mental illness is all brain chemistry for the most part, right? Well, the chemicals in a human brain equate to emotions and what not and its really just one huge vicious circle. Most suicides cite emotional reasons because it's all the same thing. Chemicals are emotions are chemicals and the shit that's supposed to balance the emotions and chemicals are all equivalent when you're the "sick" one and you usually end up hating all of it."

"Then what was your emotional reason?"

I gulped. "I was lonely, Zim, very, very lonely." Wow. I'd said everything to Zim that I'd said in therapy but talking to another person- someone who (I thought) was my own age, even if that someone was an alien invader- felt like a total release. I'd have to find a way to tell Doctor Morrison about this without sounding, well, crazy. "Hey, Zim?"

"What?"

"Where're my shirt and my boots? I kind of want to go home now."

He blinked in a few times before he realized what I was talking about. "The shirt got ripped while I was dragging you back here. I gave it to GIR. He probably ate it. Your boots are under the table. I have freakish ape clothes if you need them."

"Just a shirt Zim, thanks."

He grunted at me and went off to- I assumed- fetch a shirt for me. I sighed and grabbed my boots. As I laced them up I wasn't too sure what to think. For the moment I wasn't hallucinating. Sure, I'd had a psychotic break from reality earlier that day and I had no idea what had triggered it, but right then I felt… okay. What a strange and wonderful thing to feel.

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**A/N:**

**Whoot! Yay for psychotic breaks from reality! (justmacy: And superior Irken technology!)**

**In case you haven't guess, I (Invader Nae!) have been taking over the writing duties. A few responses to this would help me TONS in the production of future chapters. I don't care if you praise me or not. I _do _care, however, about what you think of the story, character development, plot development, where you'd love to see this go (don't say ZaDR- I guessed that much), etc. Okay? We absolutely LOVE hearing from you. We love constructive criticism even more.**

**Thanks a million, dearest readers. Any of you who read that paragraph above get cupcakes in the review response. The kind with lots of sprinkles and edible glitter.**

**~ Invader Nae & justmacy**


	7. 6: A MuchNeeded Filler

**A/N: Whoot for the Queen of Inconsistent Chapter Length! Worship my superior inconsistency humans!**

**Joking aside, consider the disclaimer disclaimed [I own nothing but the plot and original ideas] and, yes, though you may have your doubts, this chapter IS needed. Everything serves a purpose in this piece, even the jerkface Professor. Okay?**

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Gaz's car hummed along the highway. She was still playing chauffer for me. I was scrunched into a tighter position than the tiny vehicle usually required. My knees were drawn up and my head rested against the window. My scalp still hurt from Zim's tugging on it a few days ago.

I should have felt happier. The voice was gone and there was no more paranoia to contend with. My head was my own. I still didn't feel well. The depression was in my way, despite my meds. It was nice to quit taking the anti-psychotics, though.

"Where'd you go after school last Tuesday?"

There was that tone again, that caring tone. I disliked it in an intense way (because hate's a really strong word) even though the question was still slathered with venom. Why did she care? I didn't understand!

"Zim's back, Gaz."

She gave me a sidelong glance. "You were with him?"

"Yeah. Look, sis, could we please stop talking now? I want to conserve my boundless energy for Dr. Morrison."

She dropped me off about a minute before my scheduled appointment time. This meant I wouldn't have to endure the waiting room and the strange looks from people who were there for other reasons than mental illness. Oh thank God for small blessings.

xXxXx

"So, Dib, how are you today?" Dr. Morrison paused to cock his head at me before taking his usual seat.

I was lying on the cotton ball couch with my feet slung over the back, kicking at the air, and my head hanging upside down. "You know, I harbor an intense dislike for that question, Doc. Ask my why I'm sitting like this. I know you want to."

He chuckled and asked.

"It serves two purposes. Three, if you think about it. First reason: my back is achy from those wretched skool desks and this makes it feel better. Next: I feel like I need a change of perspective lately because I'm just not happy and I wish I were. Finally: I'm turning my frown upside down." From my position the grin I gave him was sure to look wacky.

"Would you like to sit up?"

"Hello no! I'm stayin' like this until feel better or its time for me to leave. I have a suspicion that it'll be time for me to leave before I feel much better though," I swung my head back and forth, dusting the carpeting with my hair. Where had all of this energy come from? I was practically a zombie on the ride over! "As for how I feel today, Doc, I feel like anarchy. No one is in control of my head. Uh… my… uh… Dad has been doing some research on schizophrenia. He found some sort of compound that seems to work on me. It made my narrator go away."

"Is that why you feel out of control?"

"I suppose so. It's nice not to have anyone in my head having crazy mood swings and telling me what to do. …But I kind of miss it. I had someone to talk to all the time. Now I don't."

"That's natural for someone in your situation. However it isn't as though that part of you is gone- the emotions that created your "narrator" still exist, they have just re-assimilated with the rest of your consciousness. What prompted your father to look into mental illness?"

"God he's such a jerk. He thinks he can just be a parent now! As if the last 17 years of neglect hadn't happened. I can't stand that man, truly. To answer your question, I had a really nasty hallucination. There were these monsters that had been watching me for a long time and they finally came after me. I thought they were going to kill me… It wasn't much fun."

"Has anything like that happened since you started this new medication?" He sounded skeptical. This was his way of questioning the great Professor Membrane's work. Ha. If only he knew the truth about my instant-cure. I'd be wearing a real straight jacket then.

"Nope. I'm just depressed. Well, I'm not right now, but for the last couple of days I've been feeling very apathetic and generally unhappy. I can't figure out why and I don't know what to do about it."

"First of all you're going to want to talk to your psychiatrist about your new medication-"

"Yeah, because pills fix everything-"

"- And perhaps you should get more involved in skool. You could try joining a club or something. This is your senior year after all- you'll want to make it memorable."

I chewed my lip. "Maybe I will. I'll think about it." That translated into a big fat "No way!" but I wasn't about to tell him that. He was smart. He'd probably figure it out on his own.

"Have you made any new friends?"

"Not really. No. None. Nobody talks to me, really, but that's intentional. They're all such idiots- I don't want to associate with most of my peers."

"Most of them?"

"Pretty much all of them."

"Is there anyone who is an exception to that?"

I blushed. Damn my pale, computer-screen-bleached skin! "There's this one kid… but he's crazier than me. It'd never work out. Ever. Not in a million years."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself of that, not me. What makes you think you two have no chance together?"

"He comes from an entirely different planet, Doc. It just would not work."

"So, what, he's not someone your family would approve of? Is it a class thing?"

I snorted and swung myself upright again, reveling in the head rush. "Yeah, you could put it that way. I'm gonna go now, okay? Gaz will be unhappy if I'm late coming out."

He nodded, "Alright, Dib. Have a good afternoon. How's next week for our next appointment?"

"That sounds good. I'll be here." Slowly but surely we'd been working our way down to weekly appointments. That made Gaz happy because she saved more money on gas with fewer visits. It made me anxious and independent.

xXxXx

The following Friday I stomped into the kitchen and chucked my backpack into the sink. It proceeded to vomit books and ink from shattered pens. The coach had finally gotten around to physical fitness testing in PE. The process not included not only tedious exercises (I dare anyone to beat my chin-up record: 47) but an agonizing weighing process as well. I'd gained another 10 pounds. I was fighting hard to keep from breaking something.

There was a laugh from the corner. "Being disobedient, was it?" Tak sat on top of the kitchen table with her legs folded and a bag reading "Shí" in front of her. She was playing with the lacing on her shoes in a rather childish manner. It was kind of cute.

_I wonder what the combination of "Xenophilia" and "Homosexuality" would be? "Homoxenophiliality"? That sounds good._

"Why'd you get Chinese?"

"You sister has recruited me in the effort to fatten you for sacrifice to the Tallest." Her deadpan delivery made me wish I could pretend she was joking. However, the few snippets of information I'd read over her shoulder while she read Irken news on her laptop rendered that rather difficult.

Irk was in the middle of a severe snack shortage and was a war- actual war, not an invasion- with another unnamed military power. This has resulted in a nasty economic recession and unrest in the masses. The plebeians were angry- they had neither bread nor circuses to keep themselves occupied with. I'd even seen a few images of Meeklings (the term, I assumed, meant something like "teenagers"- despite the total lack of age in the race- as opposed to "Smeets" for "children") dressed fashion that I'd seen in steampunk or cyber clubs. The rest of the, were at the opposite end of the spectrum, wearing their pinkish uniforms with pride and piously devoted to religious worship of- get this- not the Control Brain, but the Tallest.

Absurd, no? The latter seemed to be the case with Tak nonetheless, if her parading of the Irken flag (stickers of it were in every window of the house) and strange statements about human sacrifice were any indication.

"I'm not hungry." I turned sharply and exited, not waiting for her to reply.

Once in the safety of my room I ripped my boots off and kicked them under the bed. Devi squeaked at me from her perch on my bedpost. Her claw-feet tapped against the metal impatiently. Through my self-loathing there was a tickle of satisfaction- it was kind of nice to feel missed. I picked her up and set her on my shoulder then plopped down on my bed.

I'd managed to keep my room clean (which means in a state just below biohazard level) and I'd finished reading through my encyclopedia set three days ago. I was thinking of starting the complete and updated version of the Oxford English Dictionary, which was, in its entirety, fourteen volumes of tracing paper filled with words in print so small that a magnifying glass was required to read them. I'd bought it as an impulse-buy before my suicide attempt.

Devi crawled up the side of my head and snuffled in my ear.

"You'd better not be planning on eating my brain."

She whined.

"Yeah, they eat cow brains, Devi, not human brains. If you really want to try it I'll take you out to a farm one day and put you on a cow. You're not allowed to eat my brain- I need it for school and paranormal investigation."

A few squeaks and clicks.

"Don't remind me," I sighed, exasperated. My studies of the paranormal had been running suspiciously low, my interest in it waning in favor of collecting as much knowledge about everything else out there that was "real". That was why I had read the entire encyclopedia and was moving on to the world's most complete and huge dictionary- I wanted to stay grounded in reality.

I laid back and Devi moved to my chest. I stroked her fur. "I think I just had an epiphany, Devi. I lost my grip on reality first to the paranormal then to schizophrenia. (I mean, yeah, aliens are real, but the Chupucabara? Bigfeet? Who was I kidding?) That serious lack of control lead to even more angst so I decided to die."

I let out a breath and stared at the dots on me ceiling that were faintly glowing- somehow some light had managed to enter my room throughout the course of the day. "Wow, thanks, little mutant. You're more useful than most would think."

I set her aside and grabbed my new laptop. It was a shiny shade of espresso and had little swirly-gigs on top of it. It was a pretty contraption and was also the best that money could buy. I had equipped with amazing speed, Gobs of memory and, naturally, security that even the CIA couldn't hack through. Oh, yeah, this machine would be greatly appreciated and well used.

I logged onto my Gesichtbook page and started playing Ranchville.

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**A/N:**

**Dearest Readers-**

**Justmacy's compy is still out of commission so it is up to I, the invincible Invader Nae, to keep up the story.**

**...and I'm scared to death! I need some feedback darlings- Please let me know what you think? Good, bad, ugly? How can I improve? (And, yes, this is the last filler chapter for a while... so we all hope. ^^;;)**

**Love and Genetic Mutation,**

**Invader Nae**


	8. 7: Proposition

**A/N:**

**I still don't own anything. Not smart enough to. ^^;**

**Here's another one for you lovelies- here's to things finally getting interesting.**

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The first volume of the Oxford English Dictionary fell off of my bed with a horrendous thunk. Indignant squealing- that told me it had just missed squashing Devi- followed it. Sitting up and scratching the back of my head, I wondered when I'd managed to strip down to my boxers. Wading through the dictionary- trust me, encyclopedias are much more interesting- had taken me most of the night and I hadn't even completed the first book. I was a tad disappointed in my skills as a reader.

I stumbled downstairs and into the laundry room. It was adjacent to Dad's lab. More than once he'd come downstairs in the middle of the night, bleary eyed with some great idea, and mistaken the washer or dryer for a centrifuge. (To think that people considered him the greatest mind alive... It still shocks me.) Luckily, that was not the case today and I retrieved a pair of Gaz's pants from the dryer, free of random experiment gunk. Like me, she was tall and skinny and we had similar taste in clothing. Fashion was one thing I'd grown up admiring her for, though I'd never admit it. She preferred skin-hugging things. I allowed myself to wear them because it was Saturday and no one would see me attempt to pull off something so… feminine.

Gaz still had more meat on her bones than I did (I made a note to mock her about this later) so I slipped into her pants with ease. I found the chains under a pile of her lacy underwear and hooked them on with much cringing. I wanted to take a shower in hand sanitizer. My sister's shirts were all a few sizes larger that required- to accommodate her "titzillas" as she called them- and I went without.

Shuffling into the kitchen in the black pinstripe bondage pants I stared down at my chest. Flat and whiter than Matt Blauer I felt that it needed some color. Perhaps I'd get a tattoo.

"You're late." Zim sat on top of the kitchen table holding my sister's coffee mug. It was green leopard print and read, _"Don't make me get the flying vampire piggies"._

I smiled and stretched. My back popped. "Late for what?" I was teasing him- I remembered as soon as he'd spoken that he'd assaulted me the previous day. He'd pushed me into a locker to get my attention and informed me that he would arrive at my house at 7 a.m. sharp to "have a talk" with me. It was now 8:45 and the green Meekling looked pissed.

He slid off of the table and walked towards me. Between my bare feet and his four-inch platform boots we were eye to eye. "On my planet it is appropriate to punish those who do not honor agreements in whatever fashion the Irken of higher status sees fit. I think I'd have to flog you, Plebeian. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"I am gay, Zim, but bondage is so not my cup of tea. You've been listening to too much Term Lambada." I made a mental note to hide my collection of the _Gr8t Amerikan Popularity Contest _winner's CDs. "Are you seriously drinking coffee?"

"Your freakishly intelligent father was the one to welcome me into your home while you slept. We shared a brief discourse on my "allergy" to water and he spent a few minutes concocting this coffee in such a way that it had no water content" He drained the mug and set it in the sink.

"And my dad had nothing to say about your overall greenness, strange militant clothing or antennae?" On autopilot I pulled a can of Mutant from the fridge and cracked it open.

"No, not at all."

"Okay then, so it's not just his children that he ignores." I sipped at the violet energy supplement at looked the alien over.

The massive, buckled death boots, second-skin black leggings and maroon coat with a standing collar and shoulder-pad-things (They gave his silhouette a winged effect) were anything but inconspicuous. The Irken symbol embroidered on the right shoulder of the coat didn't help much either. A glinting on his right antenna caught my eye and I cringed. If my memory and research served me right, that particular appendage was highly sensitive. Shoving a ring through it was a taboo equivalent to showing off a Prince Albert and ten times as painful to have done.

"Did you pierce your antenna, Zim?"

Zim had been returning my scrutiny and it took him a moment to reply. "Of course- are you just now noticing this? Dunce."

"Well, yeah, I haven't seen you out of your disguise for a while, jeez. There's no reason to fling insults. …Why?"

He gave me a vicious grin. "It serves many purposes."

I hid the visible goosebumps that blossomed across my arms and neck by turning on my heel and walking towards my room. "Freak. Why are you here, anyway?"

"You and I have business to discuss. I assume Tak has informed you about the current state of our home planet?"

"Uh… not really. I've done some spying through her Internet history- or whatever you call the intergalactic version of it-"

"Good then she has done as she promised."

"What?"

"The idea here was to get you involved without actually having to force you into it. Human psychology has shown that pubescent males especially do not handle orders well- they're inclined to do the opposite. She and I agreed to find a way to pique your curiosity without directly telling you what was going on would be best."

My eye twitched. This was not okay. I did not like being manipulated! I rubbed both hands over my face then pulled at my hair. Not cool, Tak, not cool.

I thought I was being all super-genius like by hacking her computer but no! It was all planned. If Tak is involved in this conspiracy then Gaz must be too. They're an inseparable couple. My own blood is keeping secrets from me!

I marched to my sister's bedroom door and flung it open. "_Gaz! You've got some explaining to do!"_

There was a terrified but strangely muffled shriek. Tak turned to face the door and hissed. She held a bullwhip. Behind her I could see Gaz handcuffed to the bed with a bright red ball gag in her mouth. I pulled out my phone, trying to make the camera work. It only took a split second. There was the bright flash of a blaster going off and the door slammed. My hand was singed and my phone was gone.

"My Crackberry…" I stared down at my hand. My fingers opened and closed mechanically, needing an all-purpose device to cling to. "I will never be able to unsee what I just saw…"

Zim rolled his eyes and violently led me by the belt loop to my room. "Now will you shut up and listen?"

"This is kind of difficult to process Zim! I'm used to us trying to kill each other all the time! Now you're getting my own family to conspire against me!"

"I believe you're overreacting. Don't worry, once the Tallest have been removed from power I will conquer Earth, kill you and you will have nothing to worry about."

I sighed. "You suck."

"No. You're the homosexual one here, remember?"

"Jerk."

He ignored me. "As I'm sure you know, there is great turmoil on Irk. We are at war with the Murken people. Do you know about them?"

I glared at him.

"They are essentially our sister race. However they carry different genetic traits and are incompatible with ours."

"You mean you don't get along? Or that you can't mate with them?"

My sad attempt at an angry tone was brushed off. "Both. They are also of uniform height across the board- therefore they choose their leaders through this absurd "voting" process that you humans use- and they are purple skinned. Despite their other inferiorities they are Irk's military equals and would like to be our betters. The Tallest are attempting to fight them off but their campaigns are failing. They have been in power for far too long and it is time for a change.

"As I know you're aware from Tak's nanovids, the Meeklings have divided themselves into two separate factions- the loyal Slaytilos and the rebellious Meeklings. For some reason that I must look into we have not been given a special title. These two factions are in opposition and Tak and I are working towards a civil war. This will weaken the nation further and diminish the Tallest's control, making it ripe for a new set of leaders."

"Is this where you and Tak come in?"

"Sort of. She is too short. You shall join Zim in taking control of Irk."

"Excuse me?" This information was shattering all of my values and life-long convictions. I was so confused! A headache was starting at the base of my skull.

"You will help me slay the Tallest, reign at my side for a short while and try to convince me not to demolish your home planet. Being nationalists and elitists the Irken people will not like you so, once they've had enough of you, you will be assassinated and your planet will become Irken territory. Somewhere in all this mess we get to defeat the Murks. After all of that Tak will rule by my side as the second in command."

"My sister will kill you if you kill me. She's the only person allowed to kill me."

He snorted and flung himself onto my bed. His utter arrogance and nonchalance about this whole mess was infuriating! "As if," he scoffed, "She's fully under Irken control… in more ways than one."

I shuddered and tried not to gape at Zim._ I wonder if he's as dominating as Tak?_ I smacked a hand to my head. I'd just been told I was going to die and all I could think about was sex. Typical. So freaking typical. _What's he wearing under that uniform? _I groaned.

Oblivious to my torment- or simply not caring about it- Zim had continued on and I started paying attention to him again mid-monologue. "…inferior human muscle capacity which is why Tak has been supplementing your diet with something called "bulk powder". Is that it? I think so."

"**She's** been making me fat? Oh sweet angry Jesus I will skin her alive!"

"Oh calm down," he sounded annoyed. I stopped mid-stomp towards the door. "I already told you, humans have inferior muscular systems and you will need all the strength you can get. This isn't a war of technology anymore. Besides, you've less than 9% body fat and most of that is in your gluteus."

A whine of pain left my throat and I planted myself in front my mirror, turning at awkward angles to see my butt. "Oh Christ these do make me look fat! Do these pants make my butt look big? Don't lie I know they do!" I was in full on weight-induced panic mode. Puking up my stomach contents seemed like a very good idea. I might not be able to control my life but I sure as hell had dominion over my own body!

Without so much as hesitating Zim crossed the room and smacked me. He stood waiting for my to regain my composure with his arms folded over his chest.

I rubbed my jaw. "Thank you. I needed that."

"It was my pleasure. Now, will you assist Tak and I or not?"

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice."

"You're right, you don't have a choice- you have self destructive tendencies that will force you to comply even though it is detrimental to your health- but it's polite to pretend that you do. I'll let you fly my new Voot cruiser- I've upgraded the engine and navigation systems."

"Leather seats?"

"From the highest quality Botanian Korks."

I weighed my options. It seemed that I was going to die no matter what happened- so why not get a chance to fly in a fancy cruiser with soft, comfortable seating first? "Count me in."

He smiled. "Good, human, very good. We begin your training at my base at noon. Wear something you can get blood on."

Zim left my room in a flourish of red fabric and the sharp scent of raw cinnamon. I was probably getting involved in something very risky indeed. However, if I could work things so they went my way, the skinny green punk wouldn't know what hit him. As far as he would be concerned, Irk would suddenly be devastated and I would have total control.

The maniacal laugh was hard to stifle as I started up my laptop and opened a new document. I set up several levels of encryption- the passwords were random number sequences- and began mapping out my plan of battle.

**

* * *

A/N:**

**Whoot! This makes two chapters totally solo! What did you think?**

**I'd like to add Queen of Anagrams and Cheesy Pop Culture References to my title. May I? (Bonus points to those of you who find the anagrams and pop culture references! There are about 5).**

**It took me seven chapters to finally get to the point, but alas! There is still more to come! (As well as some impending ZaDR if I can work up the guts to write it!)**

**TTFN- Love and Muffins,**

**Invader Nae**


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